The 25th Hunger Games: People's Choice
by FireJayGames
Summary: "Not even the highest-ranking officials know the contents of that box; he left it behind specially, so that even in his death he could terrify the Districts." President Knox Vine is just as cold and cruel as his predecessor; but he has to be, in order to keep control. Who will emerge victorius and who will not emerge when 24 children are Reaped... by their own District's choice?
1. The Announcement

**President Knox Vine POV:**

**50 Days Until The End**

The elevator doors open to a flurry of activity. Every single insignificant person has a purpose today, from controlling the microphone to straightening my tie. Everything must be perfect today, because this is no ordinary Hunger Games. This is a Quarter Quell.

I was briefed this morning in a video left behind by our previous President, John Doe. Such an ordinary name for an extraordinary man- the genius behind the Hunger Games. The video explained everything about today and it's importance; not even the highest-ranking officials know of this twist. He left it behind specially, so that even in his death he could terrify the Districts. Only I know the contents of that special box; not even the Head Gamemaker knows.

These ordinaries think the only purpose of today is to announce a new addition to the Pre-Games: The Chariot Rides. This prolongs the Games, gives the Capitol audience more of a chance to see the tributes, and it keeps the horror fresh in the district people's minds. Perfect for our purpose- we can't afford another rebellion, not with Thirteen... I shudder. As long as they play dead for the Capitol, everything will be fine.

"Mr. President?" I break out of my reverie and look up at this simple man whose name I don't know. "You're on in T-minus thirty seconds." The Capitol people gather around me in panic at his words, brushing my already smooth hair, rolling lint-rollers across my already lint-free suit.

"I'm fine. Move away now," I say over the noise of the crowd, and they silence themselves immediately, hastily clearing a path for me. The perks of having the power to kill them in seconds.

I make my way over to the edge of the stage, right where the curtain ends. Some preppy lady with blue streaks in her hair and ridiculously high heels walks- or should I say attempts to walk?- across the stage, microphone in hand. The style of the Capitol people is becoming silly, but a happy people means a happy president. At least they're not dying their skin or getting whiskers... Not yet, anyway.

"Heeeelllllooooo ladies and gentlemen!" The woman says, beaming at the crowd. They go wild, whistling and yelling and clapping. "Today we tune in for a special announcement from the President himself. So without further ado, let's give it up for... President Vine!"

She steps back and applauds as I walk onto the stage, head held high. I don't react in any way to the audience; I must show that I am above them. "Welcome citizens of Panem, and Happy Hunger Games," I wait for the noise to die down before I continue. "This year we have a new addition to The Hunger Games," there is a moment of shocked silence before they go wild again; they love the Games. "We have added a segment called 'The Chariot Rides' in which all tributes will be dressed according to their District and pulled around an arena in a Chariot. This is a chance for you to see the tributes for the first time in Panem style." The people all talk amongst themselves excitedly. The fashion sense really is starting to get crazy: someone in the front row has dyed their _whole head _pink, and someone else is absolutely _covered_ in tattoos and piercings.

"We have another announcement," I talk over the crowd, and they are all stunned into silence. They must be wondering about the second announcement. "Every twenty-five years there will be a special celebration to commemorate twenty-five years of Hunger Games, which will be called the Quarter Quell, in honor of our victory against the Rebels." You could hear a pin drop in the Capitol. Everyone, everywhere across the country is watching the announcement with baited breath. "The Quell will be announced immediately." I beckon for a small boy, dressed in a pure white suit, so come out. He carries an ornately decorated box carefully, as though afraid he might drop it. I remember the people back stage eyeing the box curiously, as though wondering what was inside. I open the lid and draw out an envelope marked _25_.

"As a reminder to the Districts that their children are dying of their own choice, the tributes who enter the arena will be voted on," My eyes roam over the crowd, and I see the spark of understanding flash across the faces of the more intelligent. The pink-haired lady still looks confused. Not a shocker; all the dye must be getting to her head. "This means that instead of a Reaping, each District shall hold a vote, and the two children with the most votes will be sent to the arena. No volunteers."

There is a second of silence as they process this. Then, almost in unison, they stand and yell. It's a tidal wave of noise- it can probably be heard all the way across the Capitol. I smile at my people and step off the podium. They are still going wild when I get off the stage, and even the workers look excited. There is only one sour face in the crowd- my Head Gamemaker.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she complains. "I would have had an arena especially made for this! I mean, the arena is still good, of course, but not quite good enough for an anniversary celebration..." she trails off, looking worried.

"Well then I suggest that you get working on some mutts," I say, looking at her meaningfully. She nods and scurries away, calling her people after her.

Oh, the perks of being the President.

**District Thirteen, President Urma Coin POV:**

"We can't just let this happen, can we?' Prescott looks at me, outraged.

"We can, and we will," I say, uncaring.

"But, Madame President..." he trails off, clearly afraid to cross me.

"Those pitiful excuses of Districts need to build up their hatred of the Capitol before we can do anything. They are not ready yet." I look down at the young child crawling across my lap. "It will take years- way after my time and yours," I pat the girl's short brown hair lovingly.

"Years? But why- they were so eager to rebel thirty years ago!" Prescott whines.

"Because they fear. Fear is strong, even stronger than hope. They need someone to hope for, someone to lead them, and that won't happen for years," I explain it slowly, like I am talking to a child. "Now please, leave us be."

"Yes, ma'am," He stands up and salutes before leaving.

When he's gone, I pick up my daughter and sit her on my lap, facing me. "One day you will be president, Alma," I say solemnly. She looks up at me with her wide two-year-old gray eyes. I know she doesn't quite understand me yet, but one day, when I'm long gone, she will. "You will find the right person, start the rebellion, and, when all is over and done, you will take over the new country."

She smiles up at me, and I almost believe she has heard me. Then she pulls my hair and farts, giggling. I sigh and set her down.

She will be a great leader one day.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the opening for the 25th Hunger Games. If you are interested in being a part of it, PM me and let me know, and I'll send stuff over to you. This is going to be way better than my previous stories, but please note: I will not start this one until I finish one of my other two stories. I can't be writing three at once because that would confuse me, though I'll throw in a little teaser every now and then. Alert or favorite the story so you know when there is an update. I don't know if that was the exact wording for the Quell announcement, or what Coin's first name is, but it might be this. Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games! Just these characters. (Kind of.)**


	2. Head Gamemaker Gild Glacier

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh my gosh, sorry I haven't updated in over a month. I did my best to PM you guys and tell you why, but in case I missed you, here is the reason: I was partaking in National Novel Writing Month, a challenge where you write a 50,000 word novel in a month. I failed miserably, especially because I also went on vacation in August. Anyway, I am in desperate need of male tributes, and if there is any way you could spread word of this story (I will be working on that also) it would be greatly appreciated. For anyone new, please PM me if you are interested in being a part of this story. Also, I wanted to know how you guys want me to go about the pre-game chapters. Do you want it done like my other story, (just check the chapter names and you'll see what I mean) or do you want it done differently? Thanks, and enjoy this chapter.**

**...**

**Head Gamemaker Gild Glacier POV:**

**25 Days Until The End**

I walk down a narrow hallway in my hovercraft. The floor is stainless steel, and my heels make a satisfying _click-click _sound as I make my way to the pilot's compartment.

The steel doors open into a room with as many buttons as my Gamemaker's room. Well, _almost _as many. "How much longer until we get there?" I ask the pilot.

"About five minutes, ma'am," he says, turning and tipping his pilot's cap before turning back to focus on the sky. The corner of my mouth lifts a little. Just five more minutes and I will be seeing my glorious arena for the first time, aside from all the virtual copies and design diagrams.

I turn on my heel and walk out of the room. It's amazing how even at this high speed, I can barely feel a thing. This is the newest and best-designed model; only the best for a Head Gamemaker.

I busy myself with some strawberry tarts for a couple of minutes, then the hovercraft slows to a crawling pace. I jump up excitedly and hurry to another room- this one has a clear glass floor, allowing you to see everything beneath you clearly.

I can't help but smile as we pass over the landscape. Since finding out about the anniversary twist, I added a few extra surprises to the arena. And, if I do say so myself, this is the best arena _anyone_ has designed so far.

After floating over every square inch of the arena for several moments, the hovercraft picks up speed again. I look up at my assistant, Loriel, who is also in the room, and smile darkly.

This is going to be the best Games yet.

**Citizen of District One POV:**

I push my way through the throngs of people surrounding the voting boxes. They are all shouting their campaigns: "Vote for so-and-so and vote for a Victor!" "Only one can win, so make sure you vote for the best!"

I get on line at the registration table and wait impatiently for my turn. Everyone in the whole district must be here today. Finally, it's my turn, and a Peacekeeper makes me sign in before going to one of the boxes.

I step in and close the heavy velvet curtain behind me. There is a large touch-screen keyboard in front of me. I bite my lip and let my fingers hover over the letters, reconsidering my vote. Never have I ever held so much power in my hands; I try to savor the moment.

A peacekeeper bangs on the side of the box, "Come on! Hurry up in there!" I type in the two names of my choosing, then hit _submit. _A giddy feeling rolls through my spine, and I step out pf the box, feeling like a new person.

**District Eleven Citizen POV:**

The Town Square has a very somber feel, almost like it's Reaping Day. Everyone just waits on line at the various registration tables, holding the hands of their loved ones and praying it's not them or their families.

Not me. I lost everyone I love. I have no one's hand to hold, no one who can be torn away from me. The Games have already done that.

I sign in carefully at the front table, trying to keep my hand steady. Even though I have no one left, the idea of having to _choose _who to send to death bothers me. Being forcibly taken is one thing, but being turned over by your own district is just terrible.

I try to push away all feelings of guilt as I type the names on the keyboard. I tried to specifically pick people no one else would vote for, like twelve-year-olds, so my vote wouldn't really mean all that much. But there is still a heavy feeling in my heart when I hit the _submit _button.


	3. The Final Ten Days

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for randomly disappearing... I've been more busy than I thought I would have been for the past few months. Honestly, I've been slipping. I want to work on this story, but I still have no male tribute for District One... So I'll just write this chapter. If I don't get one within the next two weeks, I'll make my own District One male tribute. Well, I hope you can forgive me (if you're still reading this).**

**...**

**President Knox Vine POV:**

**Ten Days Until the End**

When I press the large red button on my desk, I feel powerful, like I am about to make something important happen.

Instead, the door to my office swings open, and Gild Glacier, my Head Gamemaker, strides in on high silver heels.

"President Vine," she says formally, bowing her head respectfully.

"Gild," I say, motioning for her to sit in the chair across from me. She does, smoothing a cream-colored folder on her lap. I don't waste any time; I know what she came here for. "Do you have the results?"

"Yes," she says, the corners of her mouth lifting in a snaky smile. She opens the folder and clears her throat in a self-important way. "The tributes from Districts One, Two, and Four are as deadly as always," she says, glancing up at me to see my reaction. My face is as impassive as always. "And I think the other tributes will... surprise us," she looks slightly troubled.

"Oh?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her. Her tone is strange, like she is trying to hide her discomfort.

It's never a good thing when people hide things.

"The girl from Eleven... well, her information is _interesting," _she says, emphasizing the word strangely, like the word is twisting her throat on its way out.

"Interesting?" I hold out my hand for the folder, and Gild hands it to me after a moment's hesitation.

I flip to the section for District Eleven. I skim through her information, looking for anything that jumps out. At first, her information seems generic, but then my eyes land on two lines:

_Highly_ _troubled- Talks to snakes. Even more troubling- Snakes respond._

Has a very keen interest in poison.

My eyebrows raise. I had no idea that people in the Districts were into freaky voodoo... or that they had access to any form of poison.

I'll need someone to look into that later. I can't have the Districts getting their hands on anything potentially dangerous.

I hand the folder back to Gild. "Well, she's different. That's the whole point of these Games, right?" I ask, my voice making it seem like the matter doesn't concern me.

Gild still looks uncertain. "Yes, but... do you think it's... _safe _to have her with the other tributes before the Games?"

"Gild," I say, reaching over and patting her hand reassuringly, "Just because she is different doesn't mean she's stupid. She'll wait until the arena... I trust everything is going well with the arena?"

Gild looks relieved at the change in subject. "Yes, everything is perfect... We even added a few extra twists to make it special."

"Good, good," I say, "Now if you will excuse me, I have to get back to my work."

It's a clear dismissal, and Gild understands; she immediately stands, clutching her folder to her chest and bowing her head once again before scurrying out of the room.

When she is gone, I stand and go over to my window, which overlooks the polished Capital streets below. The people mill about, talking to each other, laughing. To them, the world revolves around them: they are the centers of their universes, they are blind to the world. Little do they know, they are small; as insignificant to this world as the ants on the sidewalks beneath their feet.

Give them a little privileges and a good life, and they will follow blindly. _Bread and Circuses. _Give them a crumb, and they give you the world.

This has always been the ultimate downfall of people- even in their darkest times, they can't band together to save themselves.


End file.
